


to disappear with your one and only

by eltinka



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hugs, bc orphaned needed a couple more seconds of stydia, comfort kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 21:39:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2041203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eltinka/pseuds/eltinka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'cause you can't find the answers just yet and being a banshee just isn't fun</p>
            </blockquote>





	to disappear with your one and only

Derek.

That is the name your damn banshee fingers type, and all you had to do was close your eyes, close your eyes and figure it out because maybe, just maybe, you and the pack could solve yet another supernatural atrocity that has decided to grace Beacon Hills and allow blood to drip upon the ground you’ve run upon too many times.

And it doesn’t make sense.

You, Lydia Martin, you did not ask for any of this, you don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve the nightmares that have stripped you of the ignorance you thought you dumped at the age of seven, and now you’re seventeen, ready to disappear, ready to close your eyes and drift away to wherever the huntress was because that’s where you belong, with your best friend, your sister, and you know because the stars aren’t as bright anymore and you’ve already climbed mountains of dead flowers to which you have fallen through all the way up.

In other words, you feel like shit and that’s basically what your life is right now, this past year, and what if you can’t take anymore of it? What if you give up? God, what _if_?

Must’ve shown on your face, ‘cause the boy you’re totally not in love with looks at you that way he looks at you. _That way_.

“You okay?”

No. No, you’re not. And you thank all the Gods because someone finally asks you, (unfortunately, it was not the person you wanted to notice your distraught state, which is totally a lie and you know it) if you’re okay.

No, you’re not fucking okay.

You don’t close yourself up. You fucking speak. You’ve been waiting long enough.

“The only other banshee I’ve ever met and I think I may have just drove her over the edge,” you say with that sad smile, and you never knew why you did it, and you think you do it because Allison did it. You want to bawl.

His eyes are tired and they’re not the same doe eyes like when you kissed him but they’re still warm and brown and milky and perfect.  “Lydia, it wasn’t your fault. I was there, too,” he reassures you, his hand gestures slightly jerky but kept to a minimum.  

And then, its kind of  a blur, because your smart boy and future husband figures something out like he always seems to do when he’s around you but you don’t remember what it was because Meredith,   _Meredith is dead and she killed herself and its all your fault because you pushed her too hard and she was unstable and the voices were too loud_ , and all you can remember is how she screamed and you shed red from your ears but he was there to hold you and you’re relieved he doesn’t have to deal with this confusion and this ache and this draining, all mentally and emotionally and physically, that these powers took on you.

He holds you. You’re paralyzed and he holds you. One arm, covered in blue plaid, circles your waist, strong but gentle, and then his hand cradles your head and he pushes your cheek onto his shoulder because he knows you need it and _he needs it too_ and he can feel you slipping, because your heart’s beating is abnormal and you’re searching for answers that just weren’t there. He strokes your hair, pushes you further into his arms, and you melt, just a little, because you’re just so goddamn tired. How did Scott do this? Fucking _how_?

Your appreciation for Scott goes up by a thousand and you think he’s worth more than 25 million.

His lips press against your cheekbone and, for some reason, it feels like he’s sucking out the toxins that dug itself into your skin. Your eyes flutter shut and you whimper. “Its okay, Lyds. I swear, its okay,” he whispers and your legs go a little weak because it was like he pushed the world off of your shoulders. You smile gratefully and curl yourself into him. He hugs you tighter and you take it as an invitation to let the tears slide down your face. He kisses you anywhere he can, he kisses your strawberry blonde locks, he kisses your forehead, he kisses your shoulder, he kisses your ear. You shove yourself a little more into his form, hoping to hide and disappear like you wished before.

You decide to look up, for a split second, and he’s trying not to cry. You take his face in your petite hands and you lay your lips upon the space between his eyebrows.

“We’re gonna be okay,” you attempt at comfort, your smile wavering, your orbs filled with unshed tears.

And he takes you back in.

Maybe you can do this.


End file.
